Whenever a veteran artist professes disinterest in modern music, a safe retreat into the past -- a tired attempt at recapturing the magic of classic material -- tends to follow. Since {$Ghostface Killah} towed that line after the two least-thrilling albums of his career, {^Fishscale} seemed destined to be just another part of his discography; if his fans were lucky, they'd get a couple flashes of his mad maverick genius and nothing as clumsily foul as {&"Tush."} {^Fishscale} is much more generous than that. It's evident that {$Ghost} knows where he's at in his career, and it's directly acknowledged by the {$Mickey Goldmill}-like boxing coach during {&"The Champ"}: "You ain't been hungry...since {^Supreme Clientele}!" {$Ghost} responds by pouring all that he has, both lyrically and vocally, into every track on the album. The scenarios he recounts are as detailed and off-the-wall as ever, elaborate screenplays laid out with a vocal style that's ceaselessly fluid and never abrasive. This is especially remarkable since each one of {$Ghost}'s lines, when transcribed, require one-to-five exclamation points, and every frantic scene's details -- from the onions on the steak, to the show on the television, to the socks sticking out of the "big Frankenstein hole" in a shoe worn by an accomplice -- are itemized without derailing the events. Since no active MC sounds better over obscure '70s {\soul} samples, {$Ghost} was wise to select productions that are best suited for him, no matter how bizarre or un-{\pop}. {$Just Blaze}, {$Lewis Parker}, {$MoSS}, {$Crack Val}, {$Pete Rock}, {$Doom}, the late {$J Dilla}, and several others supply {$Ghost} with a tremendous round of productions. {&"Underwater"} is the loopiest of all, even by {$Doom} standards; its balmy {$Bobbi Humphrey} flute and slippery beat, aided by burbling water effects, backs a hallucinatory journey in which {$Ghost} swims with butterflies, casts his gaze on numerous riches (rubies, the Heart of the Ocean, "Gucci belts that they rocked for no reason from A Different World") and bumps into a Bentley-driving, {$Isley Brothers}-listening, girlfriend-smacking {%SpongeBob Squarepants} before hitting spiritual paydirt. {&"Back Like That,"} featuring {$Ne-Yo}, is the lone apparent crossover attempt, and it hardly compromises {$Ghost}'s character the way {&"Tush"} did in 2004 ("In the summertime, I broke his jaw -- had to do it to him quick, old fashion, in the back of the mall"). Another completely unique track is {&"Whip You with a Strap,"} where {$Ghost} recalls the pain of being whipped by his mom with more than a hint of misty-eyed wistfulness. How many other MCs are capable of making you feel nostalgic about leaking welts you never had? More importantly, how many MCs entering their late-thirties have made an album as vital as any other in his or her career? [A clean version of the album was also made available.] ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide